


I Feel You

by stjaninaro



Category: Depeche Mode
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:58:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjaninaro/pseuds/stjaninaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alan loses his sight and Martin helps to 'take care' of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Feel You

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal in February 2011.

***   
  
Martin opened the door cautiously and peeked his head around it. He grinned wryly as he realised his attempts to sneak in had failed -Alan was sitting up and waiting for him. He’d been released from the hospital after a few hours, with no evidence of his accident remaining, save for his bandaged eyes. A few more days and he would be fully recovered, though he had already begun to chafe at the restrictions placed on him. Dave had stormed out of the room after only a few minutes earlier and practically demanded that Martin go in there to sort out his irascible boyfriend.  
  
 _“I’m not going back in there till you’ve bloody well taken care of that mood he’s in!”_  
  
Martin sat beside him on the edge of the bed. The lamp on the bedside table illuminated the room even though Alan couldn’t discern between light and darkness beneath his bandages. He reached up to rub his eyes but Martin’s quick hands intervened.   
  
Alan glowered. “Bloody itching is driving me mad.”   
  
“It‘s a good sign, means they’re healing. Leave them alone.”   
  
“Easier said than done,” Alan scowled, one hand again moving upward in a reflexive attempt to relieve his discomfort.   
  
“I’ll tie them to the headboard if I have to.” The threat was delivered with a grin, but he did not quite expect Alan’s responding smile, a slow, lascivious leer that moved predatorily across his handsome face.   
  
The smile became a wince and Alan brought his hands to his face a third time. Martin grabbed them and held his wrists together, bending down to kiss the tips of his fingers. Alan made a hum of satisfaction and his lips curled up in a smirk, leaving Martin to briefly wonder if he had just succumbed to some clever ruse. He pressed Alan’s hands to his chest. It almost looked like he was praying. After a moment’s consideration, he drew a single finger down Alan’s chest, past the piously postured arms and over the taut planes of his stomach, and Alan made a low rumble in his throat.   
  
Martin explored with only the tips of his fingers: the tapering curve of Alan’s waist, the pulse at his throat, the hollows of his collarbones. He watched the slow rise of Alan’s erection beneath the blankets and listened to the acceleration of his breathing, the changing cadence of his heart. His own body’s response was so closely allied that he imagined he could thumb a lazy circle over Alan’s nipple and feel his own contract in delight.   
  
When Martin suddenly stood and moved away from the bed, Alan’s face fell.   
  
“Where do you think you’re going?”   
  
“Nowhere,” Martin replied comfortingly, twisting the key in the lock with a decisive and satisfying clack. “But you’re supposed to be resting. It wouldn’t do to have someone burst in here and disturb you, now would it? I’m just here to look after you Al.”   
  
A feral noise arose from the bed then, and Alan whipped back the blankets. The loose black boxers he wore were now very tented. He tugged at the waistband and shoved the restrictive material down, freeing a spectacular shaft that stood wilfully out of a thatch of dark curls, straining to be touched.  
  
“Oh I have absolutely no objections to you ‘looking after me’.” His voice turned pleading. “I  _need_ you, Mart.”   
  
The sound of his own name in such a fervid appeal incited Martin to action. He rushed to rid himself of his own clothing, which predictably seemed to fight him at every turn.   
  
“You’re stripping,” Alan observed, his approval plain. “Fuck I wish I could see you right now!!”   
  
“Shall I describe it for you?”   
  
A sinister smile blossomed. “Please.”   
  
Martin bit his lip against the surge of lust that surged through him and dropped his jacket and leather cap carelessly to the floor. “I’m topless.” He reached behind himself to open the buckle holding the leather straps across his chest. “I’m unfastening my straps for you.”   
  
“ _For me,_ ” Alan reiterated in a whisper.   
  
“I’m unzipping my jeans.” It became more difficult to speak; his voice had gone husky and deep.   
  
Alan cupped himself, his fingers lightly trailing over his length, his legs quietly swimming on the sheets. The sight of it was as exquisite as it was arousing. Alan’s skin glowed with the flush of blood; even with his glinting blue eyes veiled, he was radiant.   
  
“And you… your body… tell me.”   
  
Martin groaned, his own hand reaching impulsively to the apex of his thighs to mirror Alan’s movements. His cock twitched against his palm. “I’m hard, Alan. God I want you.”   
  
“Fuck!” Alan growled, reaching out to him, “Don’t make me wait!”   
  
Martin stepped near and wove their fingers together as Alan drew him down. He lay between Alan’s legs, gasping at the sweat-slicked glide of Alan’s cock against his own throbbing length. Alan’s fingers found his skin, trailing over every inch of him with a feather light touch as Alan learned his body, touching places he never would have thought to had he seen them with his eyes. The most innocuous and innocent patches of flesh became livewires of sensations, the lightest caress sending lightning bolts through Martin’s body, leaving him trembling in Alan’s arms.  
  
Feeling himself hurtling towards the point of no return, he pulled away. He sat back, struggling to calm his breathing, and watched as Alan bucked and writhed beneath him, frenziedly seeking to re-establish any sort of contact between them. Martin couldn’t suppress a shiver of desire as Alan threw his head from side to side in desperation, his tongue sneaking out to lick at dry lips as his laboured breaths continued. Pressing a hand to Alan’s chest, Martin leaned forward and traced the swollen outline of Alan’s lips with the tip of his tongue.  
  
Alan froze, his breath stuttering in his throat at the unexpected touch. He slowly opened his mouth, allowing Martin to dictate the pace. Martin smirked against his lips, feeling Alan’s body stiffen with restraint. He could tell he was desperately trying to hold on to the last shreds of control. Taking pity on him, Martin pressed his lips firmly against Alan’s, slipping his tongue past his lips and thoroughly molesting his mouth. He felt Alan’s hand cup his cheek, tilting his head to the side and twining his tongue with his own. His other hand trailed down Martin’s back, stroking every knob of his spine, before squeezing his arse.  
  
Martin gasped into his mouth. Reaching up, he grabbed hold of Alan’s hand and pressed it down into the soft pillows beneath his head. Almost subconsciously, Alan removed his other hand from where it rested on the soft curve of Martin’s behind, and moved it upwards to mirror the limb Martin had pinned.   
  
Pulling back slightly, Martin regarded his lover. He’d never seen Alan look so  _submissive_ before. So helpless. He gulped loudly, his erection throbbing painfully at the thought of Alan being totally at his mercy.   
  
“Oh fuck, Al... The things you do to me...” He groaned, breathlessly.  
  
Alan’s hands shot up, tangling in Martin’s curls, and dragged him roughly back into a devouring kiss. When his mouth suckled a hot path up his neck, teeth nipping at the tender flesh behind his ear, Martin nearly howled.   
  
A low growl sent shivers down his spine. “I haven’t even started yet, Mart.”  
  
Unable to find any words, Martin took hold of one of Alan’s hands, drawing it down over his flank, across the smooth cheeks of his arse. Alan had no need of his eyes to find his path, his fingers moved as if they had known this terrain a thousand years. They delved him, plumbed his depths, found the place within that threatened to send Martin spiralling to the heights of bliss.   
  
Arching his back and rocking his hips, Martin took Alan’s fingers deeper and deeper. The insistent, rhythmic pressure against his prostate had him writhing like a man possessed, whimpering at every jolt of pleasure that raced through his veins. He felt Alan’s hard length pressing into his thigh, its weeping tip leaving silvery trails of precum on Martin’s skin. Balancing himself on one hand, he raised his palm to his mouth, licking a wide, wet stripe across it. He reached down, taking Alan’s cock into his fist and spreading the moisture over its velvet length.  
  
At last, Martin drew himself up, steadied by Alan’s sure hands, and sank slowly down. He felt himself pierced to the core.   
  
Alan groaned beneath him, his head jerking up from the pillow. “Fuck Mart! I want to see what I’m doing to you!”   
  
“Feel it!” Martin choked out, his entire body tensing. He moved slowly, feeling himself shattered to pieces from within and remade in ecstasy. Alan stroked him, each touch sending his blood rushing through his veins at dizzying speeds. His lungs felt near to bursting, each breath filled them so fully.   
  
Martin too was blind now, his sight failing him as his other senses took over. Everything seemed to be magnified brilliantly; from the musk of Alan's scent to the thunder of his own heartbeat in his ears. Pleasure overwhelmed him. He threw back his head, a breathy moan escaping his lips. Alan bucked hard from below, cried out once, and then held him tight, filling him with wet heat. The sound of their voices blended together as they cried out in pleasure, shouts of their climax echoing around the room.  
  
For a protracted moment they stayed frozen in their attitudes of delirium, and then slowly Martin sank forward onto Alan’s chest, strong arms immediately enfolding him. They embraced, tenderly now, and shared kisses more gentle than fierce. Of all things,  _this_ was the part he savoured most. Alan’s reluctance to let him go leaving him with no doubts as to the strength of their relationship. He felt safe here, comforted,  _loved_.  
  
After a while Martin felt one of Alan’s hands disappear from its resting place in the small of his back. He sat up quickly, just managing to grab the wandering hand before Alan rubbed at his eyes. “Leave them _alone_.”  
  
“I wasn’t doing anything!” Alan protested.  
  
“Liar.” Martin said, shuffling forward to straddle Alan’s chest, barely stifling a throaty moan as Alan’s now flaccid cock slipped from his body. “I told you I’d tie you if I you didn’t behave yourself.” He said breathlessly.  
  
Alan’s lip curled up to smirk at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”  
  
“Wanna bet?”  
  
“Oh please,” Martin knew if he could, Alan would be rolling his eyes right about now. “How many times have you tried it before Mart? Tried and  _failed_.”  
  
Martin smiled and pressed a light kiss to Alan’s lips. Careful not to touch Alan, he slipped off the bed as quietly as he could, and reached for the pile of clothes lying in an untidy heap on the floor.  
  
“I knew you’d come to your senses.” Alan chuckled triumphantly, thinking he’d won. He gasped as Martin suddenly grabbed his wrists, wrapping his leather straps around them and securing him to the headboard. “What the fuck?!”  
  
“You seem to forget you’re a bit... incapacitated at the moment, Alan dear.” Martin stroked his cheek softly with the tips of his fingers, grinning at the shivers Alan failed to suppress.   
  
Alan growled under his breath, and pouted. “You don’t play fair Mart. I can’t bloody see!”  
  
“Exactly.” Martin said. “Now you better behave yourself. I have to go down to the studio to help Gareth for a bit, and Dave’s coming in to make sure you don’t do yourself another injury. And this time,  _please don’t wind him up_. I was supposed to be down the studio an hour ago, and Dan isn’t happy that I’m late because  _you_ won’t stop acting like a bitch to Dave.”  
  
Alan’s mouth hung wide open as he listened to the sounds of Martin putting his clothes back on. “Mart...”  
  
“I’ll be back this evening.” Martin tugged the blankets halfway up Alan’s chest and tucked him in. Leaning down he kissed Alan’s cheek, his mouth wandering down to teasingly nip at his lips.   
  
“Mart? Mart!” Alan looked increasingly frantic as Martin stepped back. “What about my fucking clothes?! Martin!”  
  
Unlocking the door, Martin pulled it open and stepped out of the room “Dave? I’ve sorted him out for you. Will you be alright with him while I’m at the studio?”  
  
Dave looked up from the magazine he’s been flicking through. “You sure? He’s not going to bitch at me anymore?”  
  
“No, he won’t.” Martin smiled smugly. “If he does start, it’s probably just because he’s feeling a bit... overheated. You know what he’s like -won’t admit to anything bothering him, so just take the blankets off him and he’ll cool down quick enough.”  
  
“Righteo.” Dave said, getting up and heading into Alan’s room. “Have fun Mart.”  
  
Martin waved at him, and slipped his jacket over his shoulders. He was just out the door when he heard raised voices coming from Alan’s room. He crept closer to the closed door, and listened.  
  
“I can’t believe you let  _Mart_ overpower you, Charlie.” Dave chuckled. “Still saves me having to do any work.”  
  
“Fuck off.”  
  
“Your face is gone really red. Are you too hot? Here let me take the blanket, cool you down a bit...”  
  
“NO!”  
  
And Martin skipped out of the room, cackling as he went.  
  
***


End file.
